Fantasy For Truth
by jeevesandwooster
Summary: The boy on the platform who’d asked her mum how to get on to the platform hadn’t looked a thing like the boy on the cover of her children’s book...The girl who’d run after the train had the real family he could only dream of. First in the Exchange series.
1. Bedtime Stories

Chapter One: Bedtime Stories

"…_and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named vanished in a puff of smoke, while little Harry Potter looked on calmly. The wizarding world, grateful to Harry for saving their lives their lives, sent him to a place where he could be safe from any harm. And some say that, to this day, the Boy Who Lived protects all little witches and wizards from harm. So if you ever see a young boy with the symbol of a lightning bolt on his forehead, smile and thank him for keeping us safe." _

From "The Boy Who Lived"

Written and Illustrated by: Erica Brahms

Wizardling and Witchlet Publishing, 1989

Ginny Weasley closed the book with a sigh. When they had arrived back at the Burrow, her family home, she had immediately rushed up the stairs to her room, ignoring her mum's offer of some tea and biscuits. Through the closed door, she could hear her father assuring Mum that she was probably a little upset that all her brothers were gone and that she would be fine in a few minutes. She smiled, she'd have to give him a big kiss later, as well as one for her mum for worrying her.

She had immediately rushed to her bookshelf and pulled out a much worn book with a bright blue cover. On it, there was a picture of a little boy – Harry Potter. She had read it through twice and now sat, cross-legged on her bed, and traced the picture with one finger. It didn't look quite like the boy she'd seen in the station that morning. About the only thing right in the picture was the scar. He had black hair, sure enough, but it wasn't messy like the boy's had been. It lay flat and neat on his head. His eyes were green, but they were dark where his were bright, like the frog stuffed animal she kept on her bed, and he'd worn glasses. He wore robes in the picture, while he had been wearing muggle clothes that looked like they might have been too big for him when he'd shuffled up to her mum in the station and asked how to get to Platform 9 ¾.

Thinking back to the shy boy, not much taller than her, who had shifted nervously as he talked and seemed to be all alone, she realized something else that was wrong with the picture.

The real Harry Potter hadn't been smiling, he'd looked sad

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ron's first letter home was so unbelievable, Ginny would have thought he was lying if she hadn't overheard Professor McGonagall telling Mum much of the same in a floo call. Barely two months into Hogwarts and her brother was best friends with THE Harry Potter. Harry was now the youngest seeker in a century. They'd snuck out at night for a duel with that awful Malfoy boy (though the letter ordered her NEVER to tell Mum this) and had ended up running into a monstrous three-headed dog. And on Hallowe'en they'd fought, and beat, a fully-grown mountain troll!

While the contents of her letter were exciting and interesting, it was the short letter Ron had sent to Mum that had captured little Ginny's attention. The letter had contained an explanation about the troll, as well as the information that Harry was seeker for the Gryffindor team, but it had ended with a request that was stranger than anything Ginny had read in either letter.

…_Mum, Harry doesn't talk about it, but I don't think those people he lives with are very nice. I was talking to him the other day about Christmas and he asked me if everyone in our family got presents. At first I thought he was making fun of me…you know, with how poor we are? But when I said "of course," he just looked sad and said "of course." Then I asked him what he hoped to get for Christmas and he said "It doesn't matter," and left. I don't think he expects to get any presents, Mum. Do you think you could send him something, maybe? Nobody should go without presents at Christmas. _

Was Ron mad? Why wouldn't Harry Potter get presents at Christmas? Who ever heard of someone not getting any presents at Christmas? The idea was so foreign to her that it finally pushed her resolve to do something she'd contemplated since seeing the sad boy who'd looked nothing like her bedtime story Prince.

Pulling out parchment and ink, she quickly got to work.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry Potter sat at breakfast in the Great Hall trying not to doze off into his sausage. He, Ron, and Hermione had been out 'til curfew the previous night trying to find Nicholas Flamel in the library. He'd then had to spend several hours in the dorm doing the homework he'd put off in order to do the search. At least the essay had been for Transfiguration. If he'd had to do a History of Magic essay he'd likely have fallen asleep on it and woke up with ink all over his face, like he'd done the other night. Luckily, he was friends with Hermione now, and she'd known a handy little charm to clean it off quickly.

So asleep was he that he didn't notice Hedwig had landed in front of him until she nipped at the fingers loosely gripping his fork. Startled, he let his silverware clatter to his plate, sending a bit of egg flying into Hermione's hair, much to Ron's amusement. While the two of them bickered, something that had quickly become a norm between them, he untied the letter from Hedwig's leg. Confused, he stared at the envelope that bore his name. Who could be writing him a letter? The only person he could think who would was Hagrid, and this didn't look like his handwriting. Actually, after looking at all of his classmates' handwriting, he was certain it was a girl's handwriting.

Without quite knowing why, maybe because he didn't want Ron to take the mickey out of him for getting a letter from a girl, maybe because he was shocked and thrilled to get a letter from someone at all, he stashed the letter in the pocket of his robes. Muttering a hurried goodbye to the still-fighting Ron and Hermione, he rushed to the dorm, his curiosity eating at him and the mysterious letter burning a hole in his pocket.

_Harry Potter,_

_You must be very confused to get a letter from a complete stranger, and you'll probably think I'm crazy by the time you've finished this but I have questions and I can't stand not having the answers anymore. My brothers are always telling me I'm too nosy for their own good, and they're probably right, (for once). You know some of them, I think. I'm Ginny Weasley: Percy, Fred, George, and Ron's sister. You might have seen me on the platform. You asked my Mum how to get on to Platform 9 3/4._

_I guess that's my first question. How come you didn't know? And why were you there all alone? I've only ever seen a few seventh years catching the train by themselves._

_I'm sorry if I'm prying too much. Dad says I tend to bury people with questions. I'm just curious. It's just that after seeing you at King's Cross, and hearing about you in Ron's letters, I'm confused. You don't seem a thing like I always imagined Harry Potter would be._

_And I think you might be better than the bedtime story version of you. I'd like to see if there's a chance you could be my friend as well as my brother's._

_Ever curious,_

_Ginny Weasley_

_P.S. Congratulations on making the Quidditch team. It'd be fun to play seeker, though I think I'd rather be a chaser. I sometimes sneak my brother's brooms out of the shed to practice. I'm pretty good, I think, but don't tell_ _anyone. If you keep my secrets, I'll keep yours too. That's what friends do, after all._

**A/N: So here we go again. This story starts out as a response to the "When Harry Met Ginny" Challenge on SIYE. As such the first few chapters should update quickly in an effort to get all the requirements in before the deadline. After that I should update slower, but I'll try to do it steadily. It should (cross your fingers) become a full series, a book per year, of this alternate universe. I hope y'all enjoy it. **


	2. Secondhand Information

**A/N: Quick note: I noticed after I reread the first chapter that I had Hedwig deliver Ginny's letter. I'm too lazy to fix it right now, though I probably will later. Just know that I DID notice and just adjust it in your thoughts so a random owl delivers it. Now that I'm thinking it through I don't think Errol would, as Ginny would want to keep the letter a secret and would have to tell her Mum if she used Errol…plus Ron would notice. My official position is she borrows Luna's owl. (Luna lives in Ottery St. Catchpole, after all.)**

Chapter Two: Secondhand Information

The words Ginny was using to describe her impulsiveness were ones she'd heard from her brothers and would have earned her a _scourgify_ fired point blank in her mouth. She'd woken this morning with a start, realizing that at that very moment, hundreds of owls were swooping into the Great Hall of Hogwarts, and one of them was carrying her letter.

"He's going to think I'm completely barmy," she moaned, for the thousandth time that day. Dejectedly, she plopped down on her bed. Curse her Weasley-red hair and the spontaneity that went with it! What had she been thinking, writing the famous Harry Potter and offering to be his friend? Merlin! She'd even told him about how he was her favorite bedtime story!

If any of her brothers ever found out about that letter, she'd be teased mercilessly.

At that thought, Ginny sat bolt upright. No. She had been the youngest of seven for her whole life, she could deal with her brothers if she needed to. And Harry Potter for that matter.

As if in direct challenge of her assertion, there came a tapping from the direction of her window.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

After reading the odd letter, Harry wasn't sure what to think. Prior to this day he'd received one letter, (though he'd been sent thousands,) and here he sat with a friendly, if odd, letter from a complete stranger in his hand. Prior to this summer he had had no idea he was anyone of more consequence than his cousin's punching bag and here was a letter from a girl who'd been told about him since she was very young. He'd been raised to believe he was a freak, encouraged not to ask questions, and here, this inquisitive girl…Ginny…wanted to be his friend. Had _seeked _his friendship and told him one of her secrets.

Flummoxed, he read the letter again, and then a third time. He was mortified by her attention…and yet…

Not quite aware of what he was doing, he pulled out quill and parchment and sat at a desk. He dipped the quill into his inkwell, and then let it hover over the parchment. He'd never written a letter in his life. And he didn't even know this girl. What would he talk about? A drop of ink fell on the parchment. He stared at it for a second, and then smiled. Hunching over the desk, he began to write.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Ginny took the letter from the beautiful white owl with shaking hands. Distractedly, she noticed that the writing spelling out her name on the envelope was messy and angular, not at all like her big, somewhat loopy writing or even like Ron's messy but rounded writing. Carefully she unfolded the parchment and scanned the first few lines, she gave a delighted laugh and settled onto her bed to read.

_To the "nosy" Ms. Ginny,_

_I don't think I'll ever understand why wizards with all this magical power at their fingertips can't find a better way of writing. I spent more hours trying to figure out the quill and ink thing than looking up the facts when writing my first few essays. Now that I'm used to it, I only have to go back and re-ink words every few sentences. _

_Y'know, muggles have these pens with ink already in them that you don't have to dip. They also have paper with lines on them to help keep your writing neat. I love the magical world, but some things just make no sense to do the "magical" way._

_I will admit the quills look cool though._

_Ron told me that you have six brothers. He seemed kind of bummed about it, something about getting everything secondhand, but I am an only child and I still get everything secondhand. Or I used to at least. I can't imagine having parents, let alone six siblings. I'd love it. The closest thing I've ever had to that is here with my dorm-mates and teachers. Do you like it?_

_Hogwarts has to be the most magical place in the world. The staircases change randomly, there are ghosts everywhere and, coolest of all, the ceiling of the Great Hall looks like the sky. If I'd had a ceiling like that in my cupboard it wouldn't have felt small at all. The Dursleys would've hated it, but they hate everything about magic._

_I've never written a letter before. In fact, before your letter and my Hogwarts letter I'd never read a letter before. I hope I did ok. It's still weird to know I'm famous. I don't think I like it. People staring at me makes me uncomfortable. I'm…glad, I guess…that you want to know me instead of "The Boy-Who-Lived"._

_Is there really a bedtime story of me?_

_Your friend,_

_Harry James Potter_

_P.S. The owl's name is Hedwig. If you give her a treat she'll love you forever. Give her your reply letter if you want and she'll take it for you. _

Ginny dropped the letter in her lap and grinned at her ceiling. She gave Hedwig one of the biscuits she'd snuck into her room earlier and stroked her beautiful white feathers as she contemplated the letter. She was very relieved that he hadn't teased her for her letter. He'd actually been very nice, though she got the impression that he'd forgotten he was writing to someone who didn't know him. If he'd never written a letter before, (imagine!) she understood why he'd get confused. It still left a lot of questions, and she resolved to ask them her next owl. For instance, why would he know how to use a muggle pen but not a quill? Why would he care if his cupboard was small, did he have a lot of clothes? She wouldn't think so if he had to get them secondhand. And who were the Dursleys and why would they hate magic?

Ginny got out a quill and parchment and briefly grinned at her inkwell, trying to imagine a quill with ink inside of it. Sounds like something her dad would have fun playing with in his shed. As she wrote out a salutation, she vaguely wondered if these 'pens' worked on eckeltricity. She sucked on the end of her quill as she thought about what she should write. He'd asked about her family, she remembered suddenly, and her brow furrowed as she remembered how even on paper his words sounded so sad. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine not having Mum and Dad and all of her brothers, but couldn't quite manage it, so she brought back to mind how weird everything had felt this year now that she was the only Weasley child left in the house. Her eyes snapped open as she realized just how alone Harry Potter was, and she made a decision…

Her questions would just have to wait.


	3. Subtlety Escapes You

A/N: Thanks to everyone for their kind reviews and even for the questions. Both make me work harder. Ok, here we have a little interlude. Sorry for those of you waiting for Ginny's reply letter, but I'm starting to feel this story will get REALLY irritating (for me) if it follows the same pattern every chapter. Don't worry, I'll try to get the next chapter in within a coupla days. One last thing: I would like to dedicate this chapter to my brother. He's eleven years old and as such is the perfect character study for our ickle firsties. He's got dark, messy hair that sticks up everywhere, is short for his age, wears glasses, a certain disregard for rules and, while he doesn't have a scar, I'm often tempted to give him one…or twenty. :) So here's to Carter.

Chapter 3: Subtlety Escapes You

After sending Hedwig off with her first ever delivery, (as he'd tied the letter to her proffered leg, she'd ruffled her feathers and if she were human he was sure she'd have looked like Percy whenever a teacher referred to him as a prefect…), Harry had sunk to his bed. He probably would have stayed there, staring out the window for hours if Neville hadn't burst into the dorm in a panic, having forgotten his textbook for their first class of the day, Charms. Jumping as he realized, with a quick glance at the slightly dented watch that had once belonged to Dudley, that he was going to be late to class if he didn't hurry after the round-faced boy he snatched up his own copy of "The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One" and rushed down the halls.

He made it to class just in time and slid, relieved, into a chair next to Hermione, with Ron on her far side. Hermione already had her text opened and was reading ahead the chapter they'd be learning today while Ron rolled his eyes at her. While Professor Flitwick quickly took role, Harry pulled out some parchment, ink, and a quill to take notes. Briefly, he grinned at the still-unfamiliar writing instruments as his thoughts drifted back to his new "friend" and his first ever letter. He'd made a pretty good job of it, he thought absently as he scratched out an explanation of the _lumos_ charm and its countercharm _nox_, though now that he thought about it, he hadn't answered her questions about being alone on the platform.

He frowned slightly as he watched the diminutive Professor demonstrate the correct movement to make the wand tip glow. He wasn't sure what he thought of the idea of explaining why his family had left him alone on the Platform. What would she think if she knew they'd left him there thinking he'd be stuck there? By all accounts, Ron's parents were protective of their children and would never leave them alone in a public place for a few minutes, let alone try to ditch them. He definitely couldn't tell her.

_But you already told her about the Dursleys_, a small voice in his head said, and he started as he realized it was true, once again causing the still-drying ink on his notes to smear. Hermione absently fixed the smudged notes with a quick charm she'd found early on when she was having similar problems and continued taking her own notes. Harry didn't even notice as he reigned in his horror and tried to remember exactly what he had told her. He was fairly certain most children did not sleep in cupboards and was suddenly worried that this person he had never met would think he was some kind of _freak_. The word made him wince briefly.

She'd said she'd keep his secrets, though. She'd told him about how she snuck brooms from her brothers trusting he wouldn't tell, surely she would keep the whole cupboard thing to herself. Harry breathed a little easier, though he was still a little uncertain how he felt about the little red-headed girl he'd seen running after the train knowing how he'd been raised…

His thoughts were interrupted as Flitwick quickly covered the windows with thick curtains, dimming the light in the room. Soon the room was filled with the whisperings of students as they attempted to illuminate their wands. Hermione, of course, succeeded on her first try and proceeded to correct Ron's grip (much too tight, Ron!) Ignoring her completely, Ron continued to half pay attention to his efforts as he changed the subject. Leaning around Hermione, who had given up on helping him and was asking Flitwick enthusiastically about the variations of the spell that would produce colored light, he asked Harry where he'd rushed off to that morning. Harry was about to tell him when something stopped him. For some reason, he wanted to keep the knowledge of his first ever letter a secret. He responded weakly that he'd left his book in his dorm and looked on relieved as Ron got distracted first by his own wand finally lighting up and then by the beautiful rainbow of light cycling on Hermione's wand.

Harry absently lit, extinguished, and relit his wand while he considered his new pen, or, he supposed, "quill" pal. As Ron attempted to achieve the colors Hermione was producing and succeeded only in dousing their table in a stream of tea from his wand tip instead, he suddenly decided to pump her brothers, Ron included, for more information about their youngest sibling and only sister. Nodding decisively at this course of action, he whispered _lumos verdes_ and grinned in satisfaction as his wand lit up to match his eyes.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

At the Great Hall that night, Harry put his plan into action. As nonchalantly as he could, he passed the butter to Ron and after clearing his throat asked him if the girl he'd seen at the station had been his little sister.

"Yeah," said Ron absently, as he carefully piled his plate with as much fried chicken as it could hold when already heaping with a jacket potato and green beans. "She's a year younger than me, only girl Weasley in generations."

"Really?" asked Harry, trying to sound only mildly curious as he helped himself to a smaller portion of the chicken, "So will Ginny be starting school next year, then?" He didn't notice as Hermione looked up sharply at him.

"Uh-huh. She was really irritated that she couldn't come this year though. Her and Mum argued about it all summer. Not like she could do anything, though…she's just not old enough. Kept complaining about how lonely she'd be with everyone gone. Personally if I got to spend a year without Percy snitching about every little thing and Fred and George's pranks I'd welcome it."

Harry carefully swallowed a forkful of potato. He'd learned to pace himself after getting sick after every meal the first week of term. His system was slowly becoming used to getting more than a meager portion at each sitting, but he was still unable to consume more than one helping of a meal and a small pudding after without becoming nauseous. "I don't know, Ron. I bet she misses you and the others a lot. It must be awful boring with no one around"

"Well she's got Mum hasn't she?" Ron said dismissively, "And she's got friends who come over some days."

"She does?" Harry asked. Somehow he'd never considered the idea one could have friends over to the house. The Dursleys had always discouraged Dudley from bringing friends over, worried that Harry's "wickedness" would rub off on some respectable child. And Harry had certainly never had friends, his ill-fitting clothes and the threats of Dudley's gang had ensured that.

Hermione gave him an odd look again as Ron continued to obliviously stuff his face. "Sure. Ginny's never found it hard to make friends, and the Lovegoods down the street have a daughter her age…Lane or something like that."

"Luna," said Fred, or perhaps George, absently as the twins plunked down next to Harry. "Hey Ron, Fred and I just got word from Mum. They're going to Romania to visit Charlie, so we're gonna have to stay here this Christmas."

"Stay here?" asked Harry quickly, "We can stay here for the holidays?"

"'Course," said George, "McGonagall should be coming around any minute to ask who's staying."

"Most kids leave though," added Fred, picking up the thread of his twin's speech effortlessly, "After all, it's Christmas."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Harry, not listening to this last bit.

"Brilliant? What do you mean, mate?" asked George curiously.

Blushing, Harry mumbled a bit and changed the subject, "So your Mum and Dad are going to Romania. They taking your Ginny too?"

"Yeah, as if they'd leave their little Gin-gin…"

"Youngest and only female Weasley…"

"Alone for Christmas." With that Fred and George turned their attention to Lee Jordan and started discussing his commentary of the first Quidditch game and some secret passages they claimed to have found the other day.

"Do they spoil her a lot? Y'know, 'cause she's the only girl?" pressed Harry.

"Mm…a little. Not a lot, Ginny's never been one to stand for being doted over, know what I mean?" said Ron around a mouthful of food, "Though she does get new clothes more often than we do…but I think that's just because she's a girl and can't wear our hand-me-downs."

"What do you guys do for fun at your house?"

"At the Burrow?" Ron asked while loading his plate with a second helping, "Nothing much. We have a field we use for Quidditch practice, and there's a lake nearby that's good for swimming in. Dad plays chess with me, Percy's always reading, Fred and George do who-knows-what in their room, but it involves a lot of explosions. And of course Bill and Charlie don't live there anymore."

"What about Ginny? Does she play Quidditch with you guys?" Hermione gave him another odd look.

"You kidding? I dunno, she does girl stuff, I expect." Ron shrugged and then let out a happy breath as the pudding appeared.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Later that evening, the trio sat in the common room. Hermione was practicing tomorrow's transfiguration lesson, turning water into tea, Ron was doodling idly in Harry's copy of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" and Harry was happily composing a note to the Dursleys telling them he wouldn't be coming "home" for Christmas. Suddenly, there was a tapping noise at the common room window. Harry glanced up and, seeing it was Hedwig, quickly let her in. Ron didn't look up from his doodling but Hermione watched in interest as Harry untied a letter from Hedwig's leg and grinned widely before telling them that he was going to bed and rushing to the boy's dormitory.

"'K. G'night Harry," said Ron.

Hermione puzzled over her best friend's behavior. Ron may not have noticed, but Hermione knew that Harry never got owls, not from any of his family or friends back home or anything. So who was writing to him now? Considering his rather obvious line of questioning at lunch, she thought she had a good idea.

"But why would Ginny Weasley be writing to him?" mused Hermione aloud.

"Ginny?" asked Ron, looking up from his doodling at last. "What about her? What makes you think she's writing to somebody?"

Hermione let out an exasperated, but amused sigh, "Subtlety escapes you, doesn't it Ron?"

"What are you talking about?"

She grinned, "Nothing, I'm turning in too, g'night."

She walked up the girl's stairs as Ron stared after her. _Mental that one_, he thought,_ and why is everyone talking about Ginny today?_


	4. What If

Chapter 4: What If?

**Dedicated to: CodeRomance, my (sorta) patient reviewer…**

**A/N: Heehee, this is my sappy chapter, and my favorite so far. If you are allergic to sugary fluffy stuff…skip this chapter. Seriously. It's all about the warm fuzzies of family and the true meaning of Christmas and other holiday special morals. I love it, but if it's not your cup of tea…well…**

It was the day before Christmas break was to begin and Harry lay awake in the first year boys' dormitory staring up at the canopy of his four-poster. The room was unusually bright as the moon reflected on the pure white snow covering the grounds, but that was not what had Harry so wide awake. Two words had the dubious honor of being the cause of that.

What if?

The morning had started off like most mornings at Hogwarts. Harry woke up about an hour before Ron and spent the time appreciating the ability to lie in bed as long as he pleased and not having to get up and cook breakfast. When Ron finally dragged himself out of bed, they trundled off down the stairs to the common room where Hermione waited for them, reading a book thick enough to be used to knock out Crabbe or Goyle in a pinch. They then trooped off to the Great Hall for breakfast, Ron and Hermione bickering about something Harry thought may have been petrol and motorcars, with Ron contending that muggles should just fly everywhere.

They sat together at breakfast, the other two still arguing back and forth with Harry paying little attention. He was beginning to believe that they enjoyed it and as a rule just let them go at it, so long as they didn't start to sound as if they were actually losing their tempers. The familiar rustling of the owls entering the hall had everyone looking up at the ceiling, which was the crisp gray of a sunny but cold winter morning. Hedwig landed in front of Harry, masterfully avoiding a tray of French toast and a jug of pumpkin juice.

Harry stared at the letter tied to Hedwig's leg, taking in the vaguely girly script that spelled out his name. She had written him again. When two days had passed without a response to his letter, he'd worried that she no longer wanted to be his friend. What had he said? Did she simply not like the real Harry? Was he a disappointment in comparison to her fairy tale?

But she had replied…and the letter was thick. Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his fringe as he felt the weight of the letter. With a quick glance at Ron, still stuffing his face across the table, Percy, straightening his prefect badge in the reflection of his goblet, and the twins, chatting animatedly with the Gryffindor chasers a few feet away, Harry quickly stashed the thick parchment in an inside pocket of his robes and hastily excused himself from the table.

He'd read the letter through five times, despite its length, and lost twenty points for Gryffindor by being late to potions as a result. He barely acknowledged the punishment. The letter had gripped his heart in a terrible sadness, but at the same time a warmth that another kid would describe as the kind of feeling brought on by Christmas coming early.

_Harry,_

_My dad has always called me Button, and from anyone else it would be an insult. When he calls me that, though, I can't help but smile and curl up in his arms. I know that no matter how old I am, I will always be his little girl, and that if I'm ever sad or lonely he will come up to me, tweak my nose and say "There now, Button…I'm here." _

_Mum calls me Ginevra Molly Weasley when I'm in trouble, but sooner or later, I will return to being Sweetie or Sugar. I don't know if it's all the baking she does, but I'm always a food of some kind. Honey, Pumpkin…she even called me Gumdrop once. Somehow, no matter how in trouble I am, there's always a reminder in the back of my mind that no matter if I'm Ginevra now, I'll be Lamb tomorrow. It's just the way Mum is._

_Bill calls me Treasure, Charlie calls me Snapdragon, even Percy has been known to call me Princess when he forgets to be pompous. Fred and George call me Minx, maintaining that I'm more of a trouble maker than they are…and they're right, of course, but Mum still thinks I'm an angel and they never dare call me Minx when she's around. Ron calls me Firefly when no one else is around, and has since we were little._

_It's funny, really, how when you love someone, you let them get away with calling you the stupidest things…and actually enjoy it._

Hermione scrambled around the common room, insisting something was missing from her immaculately packed trunk, and searched for spare quills and missing textbooks that simply didn't exist. Ron watched her with a combination of fear and amusement; his eyes following her like an exciting Quidditch play. Harry watched Ron, trying to picture him calling Ginny "Firefly." The room erupted with noise as the twins burst in, laughing wildly and chased by a red-faced Percy. As a group of second years who'd scattered at their approach regrouped, Harry's mind drifted again to the letter.

_Christmas holidays at the Weasley house, fondly known as the Burrow (the house, not the holidays), have a bizarre array of traditions that range from the sweet to the silly. After an impressive display of accidental magic on the part of some very young but very in trouble twins, a sprig of mistletoe was produced that follows Mum everywhere until it is packed safely away 'til the next year. Mum is treated to constant kisses the entire day from the entire family. The annual Weasley snowball fight is legendary, and anyone not soaked and shivering by the end of the day is considered to be in exile until they have been shoved into a snow drift. Percy always reads "Christmas Carol" on Christmas Eve. The twins and I put a joke ornament on the tree every year. Bill and Charlie charm toy soldiers to duel each other. Ron hands out the presents. Dad leads the Christmas carols. And Mum always knits every member of the family a jumper. _

_That one's my favorite one of all. She works on them all year, it seems, and somehow they seem warmer than any other jumper you've ever worn. They're like a badge, much better than Percy's old 'P'. They say: I'm a Weasley, and therefore I am loved. _

He and Ron walked Hermione down to the front gates of Hogwarts, where the horseless carriages waited to take all the students leaving for the holidays to Hogsmeade station. She gave them a cheery wave and wished them a Merry Christmas, but reminded them not to forget about searching for Nicholas Flamel. Ron muttered to Harry that they might as well not bother, as she'd be horribly disappointed if they found it without her anyway. Harry chuckled appreciatively and agreed. He was glad Ron was staying this year, he didn't have anywhere to go and selfish as it was he could not stand the idea of everyone going off to be with their families when he had no family to be with at all.

_Mum had twin brothers growing up, Gideon and Fabian Prewitt. Fred and George are named for them, (their full names are Frederick Fabian and George Gideon). She doesn't like to talk about it, but Dad says they died in the war, fighting against You-Know-Who. Sometimes I catch her staring at their picture on the mantle and crying, and afterwards she goes into a baking frenzy. I don't really like cooking, but I always help when she gets like that. I think it cheers her up. I never met Uncles Gideon and Fabian…but I miss them all the same. I can't help but wonder what life would be like if Mum hadn't lost her brothers._

On Christmas Eve, before curfew, Harry snuck up to the owlery with a parcel. Harry tied the parcel to Hedwig's leg and sent her off into the night. He hoped Ginny would like it. He was excited about giving Christmas gifts for the first time ever. It was a similar feeling to the one he'd had on the Hogwarts Express and he'd shared the treats with Ron. The concept of showing friends how much they meant to him…even having friends in the first place…was novel to him and he was looking forward to them getting the presents. Ron and Hermione had been easy to find gifts for: you couldn't go wrong with candy for the former and books for the latter. Ginny had been a little harder, but he was confident she'd like her present as well. It'd taken a bit of convincing to wheedle Madame Pince into selling him the Hogwart's copy of "Quidditch Through The Ages," and he'd had to pay her enough to purchase a brand new copy for her beloved stacks, but it had been worth it. He'd discovered, upon borrowing the book for the fourth time, that a simple revealing charm exposed thousands of notes, comments, and plays written by generations of Quidditch captains and enthusiasts in the margins of the book. He knew, somehow, that she'd appreciate it. Happily, he trudged off to bed.

_You see, that's the odd thing about family: no matter if you have a large or a small one, no matter if you see them so much you are thoroughly sick of their company or never even met them, the love that's there connects you forever. It's there whether blood ties you to them or not. I think you'll understand what I mean come Christmas. It'll be odd being in Romania this Christmas, but I'm excited to see Charlie…and hopefully the dragons will keep us warm._

_I guess what I'm saying with this ridiculously long letter is "Yes, I do like having six brothers." Not necessarily because there's six of them, but because I love every single obnoxious one of them. _

_I hope that answered your question._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Ginny Weasley_

_P.S. If you ever call me any of the nicknames I mentioned, or worse, "Ginevra," I will curse you into next week, underage magic restrictions or not. Bill promised to teach me a really nasty one before I start Hogwarts._

He supposed she did answer his question. He had no idea what to write back. She'd shown him just what it felt like to have a family. (And how had she known that was what he was really asking? He hadn't even known that's what he wanted.) He fell asleep, still unsure whether he was upset and jealous or just plain grateful, and still asking himself "What if?"

The next morning, for once, Ron woke up before him. This was made clear when Harry woke up to Ron throwing a pillow at his head.

"Presents," Ron said by way of explanation.

"I got presents?" Harry said blankly. Even as he got presents for everybody, he never actually considered the idea he'd receive any. Why should he? He'd never got any before.

"What did you expect, parsnips?" Ron asked as he started passing the presents to Harry. Harry smiled; apparently traditions don't change even if you're away from home. As he unwrapped a flute from Hagrid and some sugar-free candy from Hermione he contemplated searching the Christmas tree for a gag ornament to see if Fred and George also kept up traditions. Soon, he came to a vaguely lumpy package, and despite Ron's protests, opened it. Inside, he found a thick, knitted jumper the color of his eyes and a matching scarf. The scarf had a note pinned to it:

_Harry – remember my letter, every word was true. Oh, and when my brothers inevitably drag you outside, enchant a couple of snowballs with this curse: _Aguamentia Impedichronos. _It's essentially a delayed water bomb…payback for a prank Fred and George played on me last Christmas. Please describe the effects in detail in your next letter. Oh, and Merry Christmas. –Ginny_

Harry stared at the jumper in disbelief, and thought back to the letter. "I am a Weasley, and I am loved," he thought, and grinned. He pulled the jumper over his head, neatly messing his hair up even further, and wrapped the scarf around his neck. It really was the warmest jumper he'd ever worn.


	5. Heirloom, Erised, and Error

**A/N: Ok, fair warning: this chapter is slightly more angsty than the others. It gave me a lot of problems, mostly with organization. I tried to present it in a totally linear fashion and it didn't flow well at all, so I had to completely rewrite it. Sorry that it took a little longer than previous chapters to update. The last part of this chapter has me worried, so I'd really appreciate some reviews either telling me that it's a justified step in the plot, or if it's totally off and needs to be scrapped. Your opinions matter a lot to me, so please clue me in: though try to be nice if it was a bad move, ok:)**

Chapter Five: Heirloom, Erised and Error

Twenty minutes past midnight found young Harry Potter leaning against a door in an abandoned classroom, heart pounding against his chest so loud he was terrified someone would hear it. Specifically, he was terrified that either Snape or Filch would hear it. After a pleasant start, his Christmas had quickly taken a turn for the mysterious, progressed nicely through disquieting and had finally settled in the land of extreme bad luck.

He'd been shaking his head at Ron, incredulous that anyone would bemoan the fact that their mum had knit them a nice thick jumper, even if it was an unfortunate shade of maroon. He had carefully tucked the small note that had been pinned to the scarf into the area of his trunk where he kept the other letters from Ginny and had happily sampled some of the fudge Mrs. Weasley had sent with the jumper before noticing that there was one last package he had yet to open.

The invisibility cloak, along with its mysterious note that had urged him to use it well, had occupied his mind for the better half of the morning. It hadn't taken long to come to the conclusion that it could be used to sneak into the restricted section of the library in order to search for Nicholas Flamel. _And a fat lot of good that did me, _he thought bitterly. _Only Madam Pince would curse the books to scream if they were read without permission. _

It was the revelation that the cloak had been his fathers that had drawn his imagination into a seemingly immutable trap. What had his father done with that cloak? Did he use it while still in Hogwarts? If so, doing what? His heart, starved for information about his parents, attempted to construct scenarios filled with adventures and hi-jinks that would require being invisible, but failed miserably. He only had the vaguest of ideas what his parents looked like, and that only in relation to himself. He what kind of people they were, or who their friends had been. He knew that his dad had played Quidditch, but not what position. He knew his parents had been head boy and girl, that his dad was good at transfiguration and his mum was good at charms. That was it.

His mind had been mercifully distracted, thank Merlin, by the infamous Weasley snowball fight. The twins had been quite surprised by Ginny's contribution to the game and were even more shocked when, sopping wet and shivering like mad, they'd demanded he tell them where he learned it and he'd refused. He had consented to tell Ron the incantation, though, and no matter how quick the twins performed drying charms on themselves and each other, they were rarely dry for more than three minutes at a time.

After the Christmas feast, Harry and Ron had played a few dozen games of wizard's chess, breaking in the new set Harry had got in a wizard's cracker by losing spectacularly game after game. At first this was because Percy was trying to help, but later (when Percy had wondered off to study some dull book entitled "Minister Prefect: How a successful Hogwarts career leads to a successful Ministry career") it was because his mind was occupied by a new problem: Ginny, and how to respond to her letter.

She'd given him the greatest gift she possibly could have. He wondered if she realized exactly what that letter had meant to him. She'd told him all about her family, given him the nicest memories he imagined existed in the whole universe. He could do neither for her. His memories, especially those of his family, were not nice in the least, aside from a few amusing stories of what he now knew to be accidental magic, but even those ended with punishment and terror. He felt he somehow owed her an honest reply to the questions he'd left unanswered, but how do you explain to someone who grew up with the Weasleys what his family was like?

Should you, even if you could?

Eventually he had taken those thoughts with him to the dark dormitory, but an hour tossing and turning had quickly revealed to him that the problem would not rest, and neither would his body. Feeling the cool, liquid like texture of his one and only heirloom from his parents under his pillow, he decided a quiet walk through the post-curfew halls of Hogwarts, followed by a glance through the restricted section of the library would be very therapeutic. Which was what led him here, in an abandoned classroom, breathing heavily and listening as the footsteps of Snape and Filch faded into the distance.

Then he looked around the room.

It was a typical abandoned classroom. Like many others in Hogwarts, it contained many desks and chairs, stacked up in the back of the room, along with the other flotsam and jetsam of the typical school; discarded parchment, quills, and chalk littered the floor. But in one corner, looking oddly out of place, was an ornate gold-framed mirror. From where he leaned against the wall, he was reflected squarely in its surface. He could tell there was something odd about the reflection…it seemed too busy…but it was on the other side of the fairly large classroom, and since the Dursleys did not particularly care about keeping his prescription up to date it was rather blurry. He cautiously drew closer to the mirror, barely sparing a glance for the fancy inscription around the frame, and stared at the reflection. As it became clear what he was seeing, Harry's heart, that had just been pounding so fast, seemed to stop in his chest as he let out a very audible gasp.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

_Ginny,_

_Thank you for the scarf. I don't think I've ever had anything as nice as the gifts you and your mum sent me. I've sent her a separate letter, thanking her for the present, but could you give her a hug from me? It meant so much, especially after that letter you sent me._

_I don't think I could explain to you just how much that letter meant to me. _I'm_ having trouble figuring out just what it meant to me. I think I may be a little jealous, actually. There's nothing I wouldn't give to have what you have. You are a lucky girl, Ginny Weasley, and I can't imagine a nicer family than yours._

_Maybe that would explain the odd scene that has drawn my attention for the past few days. _

_At Christmas, I received an invisibility cloak that once belonged to my father. I don't know who sent it to me, but the note that came with it said to 'use it well'. So I snuck out of my room Christmas night, thinking I'd look up Nicholas Flamel in the restricted section. That didn't work out too well, but I found something else. _

_Running from Snape and Filch (just my luck, eh?) I found myself in an unused classroom, and in it there was this mirror. It must be some kind of magic mirror, because when I looked in it, I did not see myself, or rather, not just myself. _

_In the mirror, I saw a large room, with a fireplace crackling merrily in one corner, and a huge Christmas tree in the other. It had all these mismatched, brightly colored ornaments on it…so unlike my Aunt's precise and perfect designer tree every year. I sat underneath it, soaked through and laughing madly. There were six other children in the room, laughing as hard as I was. They were all different ages, some had red hair, others had black hair, some had green eyes, others had hazel, there was even a pair of twins, but they were all smiling. One of the twins was juggling snowballs, until a woman with red hair and green eyes came in and vanished them with a flick of her wand. There was a sprig of mistletoe following her around, and a couple of seconds later a man who looked a lot like me except with hazel eyes and no scar came through the doorway behind her and kissed her. It was family, just as you'd described it, only it was mine. _

_I watched the scene for hours, Ginny, and then I went back the next night and did it again. I thought about taking Ron with me, but somehow I knew that he wouldn't quite understand why that image drew me. The third night I went, Dumbledore was waiting. I thought for sure I'd be in trouble for sneaking out after curfew, but he didn't seem angry. Instead, he told me about the mirror. He called it the Mirror of Erised, and said that the scene I saw in it was a reflection of my heart's most desperate desire. He also told me that it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live or some such thing. I think he means that no matter how nice that image is, it's just an image, and I should try to find that kind of happiness in reality instead. _

_And the funny thing is, I kind of did, through your letter. I don't know what I'd have seen if you hadn't sent it. I know that what I want most is a family, but I don't think I had a very good grasp on what that meant before your letter._

_Ginny, I don't know if I should tell you this. I think I know now that you won't make fun of me, or think I'm a fre…think I'm odd. But I'm not sure you'll want to know what I'm about to tell you. But I feel as if maybe you already have an idea, and I also feel that maybe you deserve for me to be totally honest with you. You told me all about your family, shared your secrets with me, and while mine are a lot less…pleasant than yours, you deserve no less from me. If you don't want to read the rest, or you do and then you don't want to write to me anymore, I understand. _

_I don't know what they say about where I've been the last ten years in those fairy tales you told me about, but I think I can guarantee that your storybook hero is not anything like you think he is. _

_I live with my mum's sister and her family. My aunt's name is Petunia, her husband's name is Vernon, and their son is called Dudley. They're muggles, and they hate things that they consider out of the ordinary. The house where we live is in a neighborhood of houses that look exactly the same, with perfectly kept lawns and neat little fences. Their worst fear is for any of the neighbors to consider them abnormal._

_To them, magic…and me…fall neatly into that category. _

_It took me a long time to figure out that they hated me. It didn't really sink in that the way I was treated wasn't…normal…until I started going to primary school and met other kids. _

_It wasn't until my eleventh birthday, when Hagrid (the groundskeeper here) came to give me my Hogwarts letter, that I knew why._

_You see, my aunt and uncle thought that maybe if they punished any "outlandish" behaviour (what you would call accidental magic) from me hard enough, they could squish the magic right out of me. As a result, they never told me about magic, or Voldemort. Previous to that birthday, I thought that my parents died in a car crash that was a result of my father driving after drinking too many beers. _

_Knowing now that they hate me because I'm magical makes things a lot more clear. I was always punished for things that were unusual. If something odd happened around me…my teacher's wig turning mysteriously blue, me landing on a roof after being chased by Dudley, my hair growing back overnight after it being all chopped off by Aunt Petunia…all those things could land me in trouble with the Dursleys. Punishment would also follow if I did better at Dudley for something – I guess because they thought I was using some kind of magical advantage over him. Silly really, if they weren't convinced Dudley was perfect they would know it's not hard to score higher than him on a test. He's not that bright. If I talked about something unnatural, whether it was a dream I had, a drawing I drew in school, or even something I read in a book or saw on television, I'd get punished as well. I wasn't allowed to ask questions about my parents, and I was supposed to be grateful to them for dealing with me after I'd been dumped on their doorstep when they didn't want me. So I did chores. I cleaned the house, I took care of the garden, I did the laundry, I washed the car, and I made breakfast and sometimes lunch every day. If I didn't do them quickly and quietly, or if I didn't do them well enough, I'd be punished. _

_Punishment sometimes meant a beating with Uncle Vernon's belt, or sharp pinches from Aunt Petunia, but more often it was just getting locked in the cupboard under the stairs with no food for a while. Dudley followed his parent's examples nicely and beat up on me whenever he and his gang members could catch me. _

_So there you go. Your "fairy tale prince", the boy-who-lived, slept in a cupboard under the stairs for the past ten years. (Though they did move me into Dudley's second bedroom after I started getting Hogwarts letters addressed to Harry J. Potter, the Cupboard Under the Stairs…they thought maybe they were being watched.) Prior to Hogwarts, he never had a friend because his overgrown cousin scared them all off. Until his school robes, he never had a single stitch of clothing that fit him, only receiving clothes his many-sizes-larger cousin didn't want anymore. _

_You wanted to know why I was alone at the station? The Dursleys left me there, laughing their heads off while I tried to figure out why there wasn't a Platform 9 ¾ like it said on my ticket. _

_I'm sorry. I know you probably didn't want to know this stuff. Quite frankly, I've never told this to anyone before, and hadn't really planned on telling you. But you asked, and it didn't seem fair to keep ignoring your questions when you answered the question I wanted answered so badly right away._

_I hope I haven't disappointed you too much. I know it's a lot different from the stories. Maybe I should write in and tell them of their error? Though I guess it wouldn't be as good for a bedtime story, would it?_

_Oh! I used that charm on your brothers. You should have seen their faces! They spluttered like crazy. They looked like a couple of drowned red puffskeins or something. Then, when they came in, Madam Pomfrey saw them soaking wet and shivering and made them take some Pepper-up potion. The way the steam came out from under their red hair made it look like their heads were on fire. I don't know if it had the desired effect though, Ginny. They took one look at each other and deemed it a "marvelous effect" and started going off about "duplicating it in a product." Whatever that means. _

_Hoping you'll still write,_

_Harry Potter_


	6. I'm Really Sorry

A/N: The meaning of today's chapter title is twofold! 1. It fits the events in the chapter. 2. Well…it's also an apology from me for taking so long to update. There were a lot of factors that contributed to the delay. I was studying for/taking my finals, the preparing for graduation, and then I got a job. However, none of those are really excuses, as I still had plenty of time. In all honesty, I simply got a severe case of writer's block and was unsure how I wanted to continue. I'd figured out most of the major plot points, and even wrote portions of future stories in the series, but was thoroughly stuck on where THIS story was going. I finally hit inspiration the other night, though, and am happy to say that the story is back on track! Update's should come a lot quicker, though they may still take a while (You have to consider work and preparing for college, folks!) Thanks for sticking around! -Wooster

Chapter Six: I'm Really Sorry…

Under the head table of the Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore's silver-buckle-boot-covered toe tapped in time to the rather catchy Weird Sister's song that had been topping the WWN charts for weeks and was thoroughly stuck in his head. The song had been lodged there for four days now and while it was very good (though, on the whole, he preferred his chamber music,) he was beginning to wonder if the damned song was enchanted to keep the listener's mind latched to it. The lead singer, Harold Gnosis as he remembered it, had always had a way with charms…

His musical musings, such as they were, were interrupted by the tumultuous fluttering that signaled the arrival of morning owl post. As always, the beautiful snowy familiar of a certain first year drew his eye. He had to admit, he had not expected the boy to get as much mail as he seemed to be getting this year. Mrs. Figg, a delightful squib who was a widow of an old friend of his and watched young Harry for him and the Order, frequently told him that the Dursleys were not fit guardians. It was unlikely they were writing to their nephew. Dumbledore felt a slight twinge of regret as he remembered how Harry had looked when he first entered the school, his roomy school robes barely masking his disturbing thinness. But, as he'd told Hagrid after the half-giant had railed about 'those 'orrible Muggles' after returning from taking Harry his letter, there simply was no other choice. The boy was safer at Number Four, Privet Drive.

The twinkle that had diminished slightly during this thought process returned full force as the scruffy-haired boy's face lit up as he untied the letter from Hedwig's leg. Whoever it was that had been writing to him since November, they had done him a world of good. Barring the wistful, sad look the young wizard had had during the mirror episode, his face since the start of this correspondence had been bright and happy, more as an eleven year old boy's should be. Quidditch practice had been helping, but it was the letters that had done such a world of good in keeping the boy from dwelling on the mirror. He was glad of it. It'd been a calculated risk, sending him that invisibility cloak and then placing a minor attraction charm on the room with the mirror. He wanted Harry exposed subtly to its effects, just in case, but if he'd been sucked into the fantasy Dumbledore wasn't sure what would have happened. Dumbledore whispered a brief thank you to the mysterious writer of the letters, and returned to his toast.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

_Dear Ginny,_

_That last prank we pulled on the twins worked smashingly. I don't know where you get your ideas from, but you are definitely more devious than your brothers. The best part was that the teachers all thought they were yelling everything _on purpose _and told them if they didn't stop disrupting class and such that they'd request a Howler, (I had to ask Ron what that was…sounds mortifying,) from your Mum and see who could out-shout who. Since they really couldn't stop shouting, they simply didn't talk the rest of the day. It was hysterical! I think they may be going crazy (crazier) trying to figure out who's pranking the unprankable pranksters. You'll be proud to know I heard them saying, "It's almost like Minx is here already!" _

_We have a problem, though…Snape's refereeing my next Quidditch match! Remember how I told you what he did at the last one? I'm really worried he'll do the same at this match. Ron and Hermione insist that I skip the game, but I can't leave Gryffindor without a seeker, can I? _

_I wish you were here, at least to watch the game. Ron and Hermione keep looking at me like they're wondering if they'll ever see me alive again after the match. I know, somehow, that you'd agree I have to play and simply threaten to hex him if he tries anything. _

_Then there's this whole Stone thing. I mean, we know what it is, we know where it is, we know what it does, and we know Snape's after it…but now what? Should we tell someone? They'll want to have proof. Besides, we don't know if it's even possible for him to get it. I mean, Fluffy nearly ate him last time. (Too bad he missed.) If you were here, I bet you'd figure out something. Or at least you could keep me company while your brother and Hermione are busy arguing. Oh well, next year, I guess…_

_Oh, and Ginny? Thanks for not telling anyone. I know you think I should tell Dumbledore, but I really don't want anyone to know about it. It's really not that big a deal and I would hate for people to look at me weird because of it. But while I won't tell anyone, I do promise to send you an owl if they get bad, ok? _

_I think I'd like to prank Malfoy next…any suggestions? _

_As always, _

_Harry Potter_

Ginny heaved a huge sigh as she sat the letter down and tapped her quill worriedly against her cheek. She had told Harry in her first letter to him that friends keep each other's secrets, and she believed that. Her father always said that good friendship was built around trust. And so she hadn't told anyone about the Dursleys.

But the letter he sent her after Christmas still worried her. She couldn't believe how horrible they were, and to Harry as well, who was about the nicest boy she'd ever met! (Certainly nicer than her brothers!) The fact that they were supposed to be his family chilled her to the bone. He didn't deserve to be treated like that, and she felt horrible that he was going to just let it continue and that she wasn't doing something to stop it! Well, if she ever met one of them they'd regret it, that's for sure!

Ginny did her best to shake off her worries and concentrate on a good prank to cheer Harry up. The one on the twins had done wonders, and all she'd needed was some of her Mum's "Madame Din's Sore Throat Potion." The potion tasted like sugar and a very young Ginny had snuck some from the cupboard once when she wasn't sick. Apparently, one of the effects of the potion was to augment the drinker's voice to make it easier to speak while your throat healed. A perplexed Molly and Arthur had to deal with a three-year-old Ginny who cried ten times louder than usual. It had been a simple matter to steal some of the potion and pour it on the sweets her mum had baked to send to the twins. (The only thing Fred and George NEVER checked for a trap was Mum's food.) And because Ron's and Percy's sweets hadn't harmed them, they would never suspect where the prank had come from!

Ginny furrowed her brow in thought and cast her mind about for a good idea. What would be a good prank against that awful Malfoy boy?

"Ah!" she cried. Quickly, she dipped her quill in the ink and scribbled down her instructions, which included a recipe for a permanent hair dye potion and advice on how best to trick Pansy Parkinson into convincing Draco Malfoy to try a new brand of shampoo.

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Watching Malfoy walk around with bright blue hair was fun, (especially because it really washed out his already pale features, giving his face the thin color of skimmed milk,) but Harry soon had something much more important on his mind, namely a rapidly-growing illegal dragon living in his first friend's highly flammable home.

The anxiety of having to smuggle the illegal dragon up to the out-of-bounds astronomy tower well past curfew was tremendously high, so it was almost too much for Harry to bear when he found out that Malfoy knew all about their plans. Despite the fact that Malfoy at least knew nothing about his invisibility cloak, the fact that he would likely be around to get them in trouble was very upsetting. Worst of all, there were only four days left until Saturday, not enough time for Hedwig to make it all the way to Romania and back, no matter how good a flier she was.

So he'd written to Ginny.

_Harry,_

_Don't worry, it's all taken care of. Lucky you sent me that note! I simply waited until Mum was out of the house doing some shopping and "borrowed" some floo powder to call Charlie. I hope she doesn't notice…I had to use quite a bit since it was a long-distance floo-call. I told Charlie Ron had written and asked me to tell him about Malfoy. Charlie says it's no big deal, his friends will just come a day early. Same time and place, just be there Friday instead, ok?_

_Imagine the look on Malfoy's face when he realizes he didn't catch you after all!_

_Always happy to help,_

_Ginny_

Friday came around, and thanks to Ginny the whole thing had gone off without a hitch. There was a bad moment when Harry realized that he and Hermione had left the invisibility cloak at the top of the tower, but luckily there were no teachers around and they were able to retrieve it before anyone saw them. Everyone went to bed relieved that night, and Harry amused himself by thinking about Malfoy's face when he realized he'd been tricked.

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The hallway was dark, and the old castle made some seriously spooky noises, but he was determined to complete his mission. He had to stop him! Slowly, he peered around the corner, trying to see if there were any teachers around. As soon as he was certain he was alone, he set off down the hall…

…only to trip on a loose rug and crash into a suit of armor. Even as he desperately tried to detangle himself, he knew he was in trouble. The echo of approaching footsteps confirmed that he'd landed in a big mess.

"Mr. Longbottom!" cried a very shocked, and very angry, Professor McGonagall. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Sunday morning, the Gryffindors woke up to find that the lead they'd gained in the last Quidditch match was gone. In fact, they'd lost a full fifty points over-night! They weren't in dead last, but it was a huge loss!

As the day progressed, the story got out. A stupid little first year had been out after curfew. Not only that, he had confessed to pulling a prank on a Slytherin student so that he'd get in trouble! The rumor was that McGonagall had docked the Slytherin student twenty points for being out, but had docked the Gryffindor fifty for tricking him. The Gryffindor students were furious. While it was common practice to pull pranks on Slytherins, it was low to do so just to get them in trouble…it was more something one of the Slytherins would do. Neville Longbottom quickly found himself the target of some serious anger from many of his classmates.

But while he seemed nervous and embarrassed by the glared and dark murmurings, he looked to be more focused on something else. At lunch he cornered Harry and Hermione and asked if he could speak to them privately, (Ron was still in the hospital wing, though he was supposed to get out later that day).

As soon as they were in an abandoned classroom, Neville started talking very fast.

"Are you guys ok? Did you manage to get rid of the dragon??"

Harry and Hermione stared at the round-faced boy. Harry was the first to break the silence.

"Neville…how did you know about that?"

The boy sighed a bit. "I overheard Malfoy talking about how you had a dragon and that you were going to try and get rid of it Saturday at midnight. He was talking about catching you and getting you in trouble, so I went out to try and stop him and got caught by McGonagall."

The two looked at him in shock. "We found out that Malfoy knew, so we went a night early," said Hermione.

Neville nodded, "I see." He continued. "Well, then she dragged me into her office and sat me down for a moment, I think to look for you two because when she got back she explained that she had caught Malfoy and he'd told her the same story I overheard. She was really mad, and wanted to know if I knew anything about this."

Neville took a deep breath. "She hadn't caught you, so I told her that I'd said it to trick Malfoy as revenge for all the times he was mean to me. I figured if I took the blame, she wouldn't keep looking for you and you could get rid of the dragon. You were trying to help Hagrid, right?"

Harry stared in shock at his dorm mate. "You…You did that for us? Neville…"

Hermione sniffed, "That was really sweet, Neville. I did think it was weird what they were saying about last night. It didn't sound like you at all."

"Neville," Harry said, "I'm really sorry that you got blamed for this whole mess. That was a really brave thing you did. Don't worry, I'll go to McGonagall and…"

"No!" Neville said, "I don't mind taking the blame for it. You guys were just trying to help a friend, and Malfoy is a bad character. His whole family is dark…" His voice trailed off, kind of sad. "I'm glad that I could help."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Neville. You're a great friend." He checked his watch, "Hey, you want to go down and see Hagrid with us? I'm sure he'll want to thank you as well."

Neville smiled. "I'd like that."


End file.
